


and you set the bar (stubborn hearts and open smiles)

by Ann1215



Series: skts fluff week 2021 [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Bassist Sakusa Kiyoomi, Bottom Miya Atsumu, Drummer Miya Atsumu, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Top Sakusa Kiyoomi, reign of miya "good boy" atsumu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29527173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ann1215/pseuds/Ann1215
Summary: “Yer gonna give my neighbours an eyeful again if we keep goin’ at it out here,” Atsumu says; his voice is hoarse, and he wants to say it’s because he’d been screaming along to music all night along, but both of them know it’s all Sakusa’s fault, with his mouth and the way he’s been wringing noises from Atsumu’s throat every time they steal a kiss tonight.In which Atsumu plays the drums—but he proves to be a good singer in Sakusa's eyes, too.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: skts fluff week 2021 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2160846
Comments: 11
Kudos: 235
Collections: SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021





	and you set the bar (stubborn hearts and open smiles)

**Author's Note:**

> title inspired by the lyrics from 'I ain't ever loved no one'.
> 
> Day 5 of Sakuatsu Fluff Week  
> Tier 2 & 3: Band AU | "Can you sing for me?"

One day, Atsumu’s going to have to bribe the building’s security guard to either get them to scrub all of the CCTV footage from nights like these, or collect that same footage for safekeeping and, uh,  _ dirtier _ reasons.

He’s pressed up against his front door, hands clutching the loose t-shirt Sakusa has on as they make out ferociously, Sakusa’s hand on the back of his neck, tilting Atsumu’s face upward to better lick into his mouth and causing his knees to shake at the feeling of that slick tongue against Atsumu’s, the soft fabric of his mask constantly brushing against Atsumu’s jaw.

They only separate when Atsumu’s nearly lightheaded from the lack of air, both of them panting, a trail of spit still connecting their mouths. When Atsumu licks his bottom lip, the trail breaks and Sakusa’s eyes zero in on his tongue.

It makes Atsumu smirk. “Yer gonna give my neighbours an eyeful again if we keep goin’ at it out here,” he says, and fuck, his voice is  _ hoarse, _ and he wants to say it’s because he’d been screaming along to music all night along, but both of them know it’s all Sakusa’s fault, with his mouth and the way he’s been wringing noises from Atsumu’s throat every time they steal a kiss tonight.

Sakusa’s hand tightens on his nape, and Atsumu  _ shudders. _ “Then hurry up and unlock your door so I can take off your pants already.”

His words startle a laugh out of Atsumu, bright and filled with amused disbelief because Sakusa Kiyoomi is all 193cm tall with wicked fingers and surly pouts but he still makes Atsumu so, so delighted with his brash forwardness and childlike demands.

“Greedy lil’ shit, aren’t ya?”

* * *

Sakusa’s been frowning down at his bass guitar for the past fifteen minutes, plucking at random notes, pout hidden by the mask he wears regularly, and Atsumu has been fighting an internal battle to not head over there and flick away the stray curl hanging over the other man’s eye for the past fourteen and a half minutes.

Sue him, intense focus looks so hot on Sakusa.

Shoyou’s lyrics are complete (sweet, sappy, undoubtedly about Tobio) at last and Bokuto had come up with much of the song’s melody on his keyboard and guitar, and now it’s up to Atsumu and Sakusa to bring in the beat of the song, playing around with potential harmonies and drum patterns.

It’s been a year since the four of them had come together as a band, but it’s been five years of Atsumu and Sakusa watching each other play all throughout university, in concertos and prestigious solo stages, in other bands and on small, creaky stages in dingy clubs and every time without fail, Sakusa plays like he’s got all the notes in the world in the palm of his hand.

It also means sometimes Sakusa gets lost in that curly head of his, and Atsumu smiles to himself.

“Oi, Omi,” he calls out. Sakusa looks up at that, abruptly stopping. The curl bounces slightly. “Had something in my head earlier,” he continues, looking at Sakusa’s fingers instead, and hums the tune that had been bouncing around against the walls of his mind, based on one of the patterns Sakusa had been playing with earlier.

True to form, Sakusa finds the notes on his guitar in no time, and after playing it a couple of times through, he gets Bokuto to play the melody again.

It works, it drives the song even higher and Atsumu throws in a couple of beats while they’re at it, as Shoyou comes in with some ad libbing, and at the end of it, Sakusa exhales, staring straight at Atsumu.

“Not bad, Miya.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes, but he winks anyway, absentmindedly twirling a drumstick. 

“I’m good for more than just bangin’ around, Omi-Omi.”

* * *

Atsumu is still pressed up against his door, but thankfully they’re inside his apartment at last, and he’s too busy clutching Sakusa’s shoulders to even think about taking off his shoes and getting out of the  _ genkan _ as Sakusa continues to suck marks into his throat.

But he has  _ needs, _ one of them being the fact that Sakusa needs to do more than just brush his searing hot mouth against Atsumu’s neck, Sakusa’s hands slipping under his tank top to caress against his stomach with string-calloused fingers, making Atsumu shiver from the light touches.

He moves his hands to tug at the hem of Sakusa’s shirt, panting, “One sec—Omi, just, lemme get this off of you, please—”

The rest of his words get cut off by Sakusa’s mouth, and Atsumu could drown in the way Sakusa kisses him, hungry and demanding, but he throws his head back involuntarily, groaning at the feeling of a thick, muscled thigh suddenly bullying its way between Atsumu’s legs, rubbing up at the hardening bulge in his pants, moaning at the friction.

Sakusa’s breath is a rough exhale against the crook of his neck, and Atsumu feels the way his words drip down Atsumu’s spine. “If I’m greedy, then you’re needy as fuck, Atsumu,” Sakusa chuckles, “I haven’t even touched you properly.”

But despite the raging hard-on he’s sporting, Atsumu still finds it in him to grin back at Sakusa, pulling at the front of his shirt.

“Yeah, well—it’s not for a lack of trying on my part.”

* * *

Everyone’s got their pre-performance rituals.

Shoyou, the social butterfly that he is, bounces around their group of friends without a care, Tobio’s hand interlocked with his despite the eternal frown on his face. He’s unapologetically loud, and Atsumu wonders how he never loses his voice before any of their performances.

Speaking of loud, Bokuto’s arms are wrapped around Akaashi, both of them swaying to the music, Akaashi resting his head against Bokuto’s cheek, and Atsumu doesn’t have to look at them to know that the rest of the world doesn’t exist for them in this moment. 

Atsumu prefers relaxing his nerves with a couple of beers in him, the buzz of the drinks just enough to calm any jitters that threaten to make him do more than bounce his leg along to the music, making conversation with whoever’s close enough to listen to him.

But Sakusa, with an image that screams uptight and eternally sober, slams down a tequila shot like a pro before he goes on stage, barely flinching at the burn as he gets it down. When Atsumu had asked him about it years ago, both of them in different bands and Atsumu had been a guitarist then, not a drummer, Sakusa had merely said, “It helps me to loosen up.”

(Atsumu still wonders who’d taught him that trick.)

Despite the differences in managing their nerves, the thrum of anticipation is one that all four of them understand with a keen similarity, that same building impatience to stand up in front of a crowd and perform together—it harshens the edges of Atsumu’s foxgrin, makes him feel  _ untamed. _

It’s amplified by the look in Sakusa’s eyes when Atsumu meets that gaze over the rim of the beer glass he’d been nursing; they linger on Atsumu’s tattoo sleeves, arms bared in a loose tank top that barely covers anything, the armholes obscenely large and reaching halfway down his chest. Atsumu’s pretty sure he’d given a few people an accidental nip slip this evening.

But if Sakusa’s the one who stares, then Atsumu is the one who almost always ends up making the first move.

He takes care to saunter over to Sakusa, his mask back on now that he’s gotten his requisite shot, and leans over to talk into Sakusa’s ear, taking care to leave an inch of space between them.

“Ya been starin’, Omi. See anything ya like?”

From this angle, Atsumu can see his eyes flicking forward, looking disinterested.

But the hand sneaking under the back of Atsumu’s shirt says otherwise, and he gasps as fingers dip down to toy with the waistband of his jeans, before the hand moves up to grip his waist.

And then it’s Sakusa’s turn to whisper into his ear; it takes everything in Atsumu to look like he’s not trying to jump Sakusa right now.

“Something like that.”

* * *

It’s not fair how  _ fast _ Sakusa always unravels him, stripping him down until all that’s left of him is a pathetic mess of lust and desire, but Atsumu can’t complain.

Not when he’s pressed down onto the couch, both of them just in their briefs, with Sakusa straddling his waist and flicking his thumbs over Atsumu’s nipples, digging his nails in just to hear Atsumu choke on his groans.

When Atsumu reaches for him, Sakusa takes his wrists in one hand, the other still toying with a perked bud, smiling down at Atsumu like an angel come to destroy him.

“Keep your arms over your head for me?”

When Sakusa asks like that, Atsumu doesn’t even waste a moment to think about saying no because he knows what’s coming will be worth it.

(Him. Hopefully  _ he’s _ the one—)

When Atsumu lifts his arms up, wrists crossed together and resting on the top of his head, Sakusa smiles widely, and brings his hand down to start stroking Atsumu’s cock through his briefs.

“Good boy.  _ So good _ for me, Atsumu.”

_ Fuck. _ Atsumu whines at the loose grip Sakusa has on him, and he can’t touch Sakusa, but that doesn’t mean he can’t thrust his hips into Sakusa’s hand, slowly going out of his mind from the way his cock is absolutely dripping inside his underwear, sticky pre-cum seeping into the fabric.

Somehow, Atsumu manages to find his voice. “Yer such a tease, Omi-Omi,” he exhales, the words trailing off into a mewl when Sakusa reaches down to hook a couple of fingers inside to play with his balls.

Sakusa’s laugh is airy and light, and Atsumu feels something in him soften at how happy he sounds to have Atsumu wrecked underneath his hands, even as Atsumu’s cock jumps at the sound. “Atsumu,” Sakusa grins, taking his hand out of Atsumu’s underwear to rub his erection again, leaning down to suck his nipples, now red and sore from his earlier ministrations, pulling a grunt from Atsumu, his mouth open and panting. “I only do it because you’re always so,” a kiss in between his pecs, “damn,” a bite against his jaw,  _ “hard _ when I play with you like this,” and he punctuates the words by lifting his other hand to rest his fingers against Atsumu’s tongue, shallowly dipping them in and out of his mouth.

Atsumu wraps his lips around them, sucking and licking while Sakusa circles his thumb on the head of Atsumu’s cock.

Heat spreads suddenly and violently across his cheeks when Sakusa murmurs sweetly, “You’re so wet too, you’re really enjoying this, huh?”

He can’t answer that, not when he’s stuck between Sakusa fucking his mouth with his long fingers, the taste of the metal strings still clinging to them mixed with clean sweat a heady combination, and Sakusa’s hand finally closing around his dick.

But he should have known Sakusa would be stubborn, and when he takes both of his hands away from Atsumu, he immediately  _ sobs, _ hips bucking uselessly.

“No, no—don’t, Omi, please—”

Sakusa bends forward, kisses each of Atsumu’s cheek, a finger trailing his bottom lip, a hand rubbing his side soothingly. “What do you want, Atsumu? Tell me.”

“Want… Want  _ more…” _

* * *

_ “One more song! One more song!” _

The crowd’s chanting is thunderous with a kind of feverish intoxication in the atmosphere after Atsumu ends their set with a clash of the cymbals, the feedback from Bokuto’s guitar still lingering in the air.

Shoyou giggles, every bit the charismatic, handsome frontman, fiddling with his cap as he addresses the crowd. “Aww, but that was supposed to be our last song, though.”

He’s bluffing—they always have a repertoire of songs ready in case this happens, where the crowd is reluctant to let them leave the stage, asking for encores and more music; it’s been happening more and more recently, enough that they’re starting to attract the attention of scouts from several music agencies.

There’s a sad “boo” emanating from the crowd at Shoyou’s words, followed with a renewed call for another song. Shoyou turns to the three of them, his smile a lightning flash and infectious.

“You guys got one more in you?”

Atsumu grins in response, twirling his drumsticks high in the air, grabbing them in a snap before starting on a familiar beat, body rocking back and forth as he stomps down on the bass drum pedal. To his left, Sakusa bops his head a couple of times, and then joins in with a riff that’s accompanied by Bokuto’s yell and he starts strumming too, swinging around on the spot.

Shoyou laughs into the microphone, bright and musical, turning back to the crowd with a delighted bounce in his step.

“This final song is dedicated to the love of my life, Tobio-kun. Love you baby! And feel free to sing along if you guys know this one!”

* * *

There are two lubed up fingers in Atsumu’s ass, scissoring him open, getting him ready to take Sakusa’s cock.

His hands are no longer above his head, but Sakusa had gotten him to hold his thighs up, inadvertently spreading himself blatantly to Sakusa’s eyes, and it’s a familiar position at this point, but the mix of embarrassment and bliss blazes as hot as ever in the pit of his stomach, his wet, hard dick twitching and the tips of his ears burning at the filthy sounds his ass is making.

Sakusa’s trailing kisses up his calf, the tender action in contrast with the sharp, persistent movements of his fingers. “Talk to me, Atsumu,” he murmurs. “Tell me how it feels.”

Sex with Sakusa meant wonderful, amazing orgasms, but for how little he seems to speak aside from insults, or anything music or cleaning material-related, he’s a mouthy asshole in the bedroom, constantly trying to get Atsumu to string words together when he’s half-gone from pleasure.

“Feels good,” Atsumu answers in a moan, eyes shut tight, unconsciously humping his hips down to meet the thrusts. “Ah, Omi, ‘s  _ so _ good….”

“Mmm?” Sakusa hums, the tone of his voice a smoldering note of satisfaction. “You like this? Like it when I fuck this sweet ass of yours with my fingers?”

Atsumu’s breath hitches, nails digging into the meat of his thighs as he nods.

But Sakusa’s not done, and he continues to play with Atsumu, taking his fingers out to trace the puckered muscle. “When I stroke the edge of this tight little hole, just to see how much it’s trying to suck them back in?”

“Ungh, love it, love ‘em, god they’re so—”

He’s interrupted by three of Sakusa’s fingers plunging back into his ass, a wail ripped from his chest when they brush up against that spot inside of him—there’s no way he’s already climbing up to the edge, but everything about Saksua is bringing him there now, from the way he looks, swooping curls looking messy from Atsumu’s hands in them earlier, to the fair skin and gorgeous body that Atsumu had managed to mark up as well, to how he touches Atsumu with a possessiveness so sweet and fond it melts his heart and causes flames to lick up the base of his spine.

Sakusa curls his fingers inside of Atsumu, and he yelps, back arched and hands scrabbling to reach whatever part of Sakusa is closest to him.

They land on Sakusa’s arms, and he’s helplessly babbling out, “‘M ready, come on, need ya now Omi—”

A hand grips his chin, firmly pulling Atsumu’s head down from where he had been craning it back against the arm of the couch, and he’s blinking back the tears in his eyes to meet Sakusa’s dark gaze, gasping.  _ “How _ do you need me?” he asks softly, pressing down against Atsumu’s prostate.

Atsumu, barely aware of the drool escaping his mouth, gives into the desperation threatening to overwhelming him, and mumbles deliriously, “Need ya to fuck me, need ya inside  _ now!” _

Sakusa’s grin is feral and pleased, and Atsumu falls a little bit in love with it. “Good boy, Atsumu, using your words so well.”

He takes out his fingers and Atsumu whines at the weird, empty feeling, head falling backwards again as his chest heaves. “Shush, come on,” hands manhandle his ass, until he’s perched on top of Sakusa’s thighs, legs wide open on either side of Sakusa’s waist once again. Dimly, Atsumu watches Sakusa slide a condom on his own cock, shifting until he’s got one leg in his grip, the other hand clutching Atsumu’s shoulder.

The invasive feeling of Sakusa sliding into him is a slow, gradual burn, a pleasurable tingle that builds from the tips of his fingers to his toes and Sakusa doesn’t stop, continuing to move at a snail’s pace until he’s finally bottoming out inside Atsumu’s heat with a groan.

He’s nearly choking with how full he feels, trembling all over. “‘S—so deep, every single fucking time,” his words come out all strangled, and he’s shifting around to find a comfortable position because Sakusa’s cock is  _ that _ long and thick, filling him up until he feels like he could taste it in his mouth.

Atsumu doesn’t realise he’s essentially started to hump back against Sakusa’s hips, but he immediately stops when he realises, staring up at Sakusa—

Who smiles at him, reaching down to squeeze his thigh. “No, no, feel free to continue. I want to see you fuck yourself on me.”

It’s a clear challenge, one Atsumu is almost certain to lose, but he huffs anyway, and continues to ride the dick inside of him, but the angle isn’t right and while he does feel full, he can’t find that spot in this position and he gives up soon enough, slumping backwards with a frustrated whine. “Ugh, Omi, yer such an asshole, fuck me properly already...”

Sakusa snorts, but he bends down, cradling Atsumu’s jaw in his hand. “Fine, I will,” he sighs, like it’s a chore. “But…”

Atsumu blinks at him, confused. “But?”

He smirks. “Can you sing for me?”

“Si—Omi— _ fuck!” _

A scream leaves his lungs when Sakusa unceremoniously slides out, and then  _ slams _ back into his entrance, and he doesn’t start slow; his pace is brutal and punishing, building up the rhythm until his hips are smashing against the cheeks of Atsumu’s ass, the ringing  _ slap slap slap _ and Atsumu’s ensuing moans sounding incredibly obscene in his otherwise quiet living room.

Sakusa moves his hands down to grip Atsumu’s thighs once more, spreading him wide open and Atsumu whimpers when he realises Sakusa’s watching his cock disappear inside of Atsumu’s hole.

“You sound amazing, look so pretty like this,” Sakusa pants, punctuating each word with every plunge, “All fucked open and crying.”

A defensive noise bubbles out of his throat. “I—’m not  _ cryin’,” _ he protests with a sob. 

The sob turns into a barely suppressed cry when Sakusa leans down, pressing Atsumu’s legs against his chest in a position that pushes Sakusa’s dick right up against Atsumu’s prostate, and he licks the tears on Atsumu’s tears, before placing a gentle kiss against his forehead, in contrast with the rough movements of his hips. “It’s okay,” he coos, “I like it when you’re feeling this good, Atsumu.”

_ “But I’m gonna make you feel even better.” _

And then he continues to shoves inside Atsumu, fucking him into near incoherence, until all Atsumu knows is the feeling of Sakusa’s cock and his hands on Atsumu’s legs and his mouth against Atsumu’s lips, their muffled noises primal timbres resonating with lust.

“You close, Tsumu? Gonna come for me?” Sakusa growls, reaching down to stroke Atsumu off when it’s abundantly clear Atsumu isn’t going to hold out for much longer.

His vision is blurry with tears he can no longer deny, a hiccup escaping him as he nods furiously, his voice cracking humiliatingly on his last few words, “Ungh, ‘m gonna—Omi, I—come,  _ coming!” _

Atsumu breaks apart, with Sakusa’s hand wrapped around his dick, crying out whiny  _ “ah ah ah”s _ as he spurts white all over his chest, shivering from the onslaught of his orgasm. Sakusa follows him after a few more thrusts, biting at the meat of Atsumu’s shoulder to smother his groan as he comes as well.

He takes care to not slump down against Atsumu, mindful of the come on his skin, but he buries his face into the crook of Atsumu’s neck, lazily kissing against the skin there.

When Atsumu finally catches his breath, the first thing he says is, “Ya were really keyed up huh, Omi?” He gets another bite for that and Atsumu hisses, “Argh, didn’t think I was datin’ a vampire, careful with the teeth.”

Sakusa groans. “You knew what you were doing when you wore that stupid shirt, Atsumu,” he says, pushing back up to frown at him.

Atsumu giggles, but it’s cut short when Sakusa’s dick is still in him, both of them wincing at the overstimulation. Still, he replies cheekily, “Mmm, I did,” and leans up to kiss Sakusa’s scrunched up nose. “No regrets.”

Sakusa shakes his head in clear exasperation, but the edges of his lips are curled up anyway, even as he sighs when he looks down at both of them. “Well, I’m going to have a lot of those if we don’t get ourselves cleaned up now.”

“But the afterglow, Omi-Omi!”

“Cuddles  _ after _ we’re clean, Atsumu.”

**Author's Note:**

> um so this slammed into my head like a dump truck pls lemme know if you enjoyed it


End file.
